You, over there, in the corner, with the blue shirt on? You are SO grounded for laughing at me.

Ahem. Well, yesterday, I went to the cleaners to pick up The Hubster's shirts. When I dropped them off, I (nicely and sweetly, with not too much saccharine) called attention to the fact that almost all of the cuff buttons were cracked or missing. A heartfelt apology was issued, with pinky swear promises to avoid it in the future. CERTAINLY, the buttons would be replaced. At no cost, of course. I showed the clerk with the three feet of hair sticking up from her forehead and the five inch long nails that each shirt had extra buttons on the tail. When I went to get the shirts, they were no where to be found. Finally, it was determined that they were in the area for repair, being repaired that very second. Ok, fine. Except that they were supposed to be fixed BEFORE they were pressed, and the three ladies sewing were also SMOKING. AT THE SAME TIME.

Alrighty, then. I agreed to come back in an hour. Which I did, to find that his shirts were ready. I thought, "Maybe I'll just check them out", and apologized in advance to the cashier for my need to double check their work. I blamed The Hubster for it - "He's just so picky, and I know he'll be upset if I say I didn't check." I was all Southern Belle on them.

It's good that I checked, since they sewed WHITE buttons on some of them, where there was already a clear button, making one white and one clear, with gray thread.

Today my dryer repair man came. Despite making the appt for Friday, and having a confirmation, Sears told me that I made the appt for Saturday. $181 later, my dryer works. The thermostat shorted out, which messed up something or another. Fine, whatever. Except for the fact that $129 was labor fees - for 15 minutes.

I have precious few of these. Mostly, someone shares a bit of wisdom with me and I'm all "Dude? Really? That's what you need? Wow."

But.

I do have a small pearls. Not a 18 inch strand, or even a choker. More like a few pearls spaced waaaaaayyyy far out on a strand. But pearls nonetheless.

For instance, did you know that if you want to send cut apples to school with your kid, you can shake them with sprite and they won't brown? Make sure you drain the Sprite. If not, when the kid opens the container, the sprite sprays everywhere. Not that I know that, or anything, from experience. <looking the other way, whistling>

Fascinating stuff, indeed.

Or, if all you have is the ends of a loaf of bread, and no one wants that piece of bread, just flip it over and put the peanut butter on the end. Once you fold it, or top it with another piece of bread, no one knows. I'm so slick that way.

I think I told you to wash your shower down with a washcloth and some cheap shampoo - if you do this every day, the gross scum doesn't build up. I think this works - I really do, except that, um, I have a hard time remembering it.

Gum in the hair? Peanut butter or ice. Necklace tangled? A few drops of oil will help. Ink on your clothes? Really cheap hairspray and wash as usual. Need to clean your blender? Fill it with water and a few drops of dishsoap - a FEW. Like two. Whirl it in the blender for a few seconds and rinse well. (Ask me how I know that you shouldn't use an entire squirt.)

And in day 5 without a dryer, today I get to visit the laundrymat. With baskets of wet clothes. In the rain. THAT promises to be a whole 'nother blog post. (I've got to go - no uniforms for today - Allegra borrowed a shirt from her girlfriend, and nothing clean for tomorrow - I switched Riley to paper dipes, which is causing her to break out. So I NEED to go and dry some clothes already.)

Yup, I know it's Wednesday, and some of you are looking for the "dynamics of a big family" post. It's not here, and it's not going to be at Big Yellow House. Not today, anywho.

You see, last night I went out with some girlfriends. I left the house in a rage, after a screaming argument with a child who did not know when to shut his mouth. TO ME, it's a pretty fair assumption that when someone tells you to STOP TALKING, it would be pretty smart to do so, especially when that person is frothing at the mouth and spit is flying. And especially if an injury had happened two minutes before, involving yourself and a much smaller child. But, the injury happened, and the spit flying yelling happened, and I left the house and went to my dinner. Where I had two very large, very stiff mixed drinks. Stupidly named mixed drinks; I mean, what thoughts does the name JUNE BUG bring to mind? Coconut rum, banana liqueur, Midori and pineapple juice, right? Not those nasty bugs that eat your roses.

So, I had two drinks, and almost no dinner. I also had walked five miles that day, and had almost no lunch. When I got home, I stayed up for a while and watched the Women's figure skating. Whoa, was it interesting. Upshot of all this was that I went to bed at 12, and woken at 1 because I was hot, 2 because Riley was screaming, 4:17 because I was cold, and 5 because Gabe wanted to know if he could climb in. So, I overslept. By AN HOUR. I have NEVER overslept this school year.

When I woke, I noticed that I couldn't breathe. Somehow, I appear to have come down with a fairly strong cold. I think it's due to the terrorists. Or global warming, I 'm not sure which. but my ample chest is clogged, my nose is plugged, and I'm not certain if my headache is due to demon rum or rivers of snot.

The Hubster knew I needed a break, and God Bless Him, sent me for a pedicure while he watched the little girls on his morning off. He took the forgotten books to school, went to the toy store for play dishes, and even brought back lunch. All while I was soaking my feet, getting my calluses scraped and reading. He IS THE MAN.

So, no big family post. Chris is at the dentist, and I'm going to lay on the sofa until the last minute that I have to leave for pick up. Add to that the fact that my dryer makes all the right noises, but is asserting it's independence by being all "I don't feel like drying the clothes, woman!" and you can begin to see my day. I have a meeting tonight to discuss graduation details for my eighth grader, and my sitter cancelled, so it looks like I'll have to go with some of my kids in attendance. Won't THAT be special????

But, HOW COOL WAS IT that the guy from Wife Swap read my blog and wants to to participate? Except, I don't think it was meant for me, but for Chris - but I still love her anyway, even though she TOTALLY STOLE my shot at fame. And he doesn't know that I have two kids under 6 and am therefore ineligible. But it was cool while it lasted!

The big family post was going to be a photo shot of pics of things that are big family related. I'm blank on that,though. What kinds of pics do you want to see? I have already done a pic of my laundry, but I could do it again I guess......

See, I did that post on Saturday morning, and didn't get any comments. As in, NOT ONE. Wow, I thought. I must really suck lately - no one bothered to comment at all. I mean, I know that crayon talk is boring an all, but nothing?

And then I realized that, since thursday, I've received a steadily diminishing amount of mail. in fact, since then, I've gotten 17 emails. In that time span, I usually receive 200 or more.

My email provider told me that it was due to a junk folder - which I don't have. Or spam filters - again, which I don't have. So they are researching it.

in the meantime, if you need me, leave me a comment and I'll check it. I don't appear to have trouble sending, just receiving.

While obtaining my coffee, I struck up a conversation with the (male) barista. He handed over my coffee, and I removed the top. I took a straw to stir the caramel in, and continue to chat. While still running my big trap, I removed the straw from the cup and ran it across my mouth, to lick the foamy caramel off. Apparently, while doing this, I also wiped it across my cheek.

And I continued to chat, until the coffee guy motioned to his own cheek. Where I felt the mess I had smeared all over my own face.

And then, I came home to laundry. I pulled the clothes out of the dryer, only to notice that they were all covered in melted crayon. I had apparently forgotten to check the pockets of my hoarding child, the one who carries her life in her pockets. Now, I have an entire load of clothes that are pretty much unsalvageable, and a dryer coated in multi colored streaks. I've tried all the tricks that were on the crayola site, but these are mutant, stronger than life crayons. All I have for that effort is the smell of WD-40 entrenched in my palms.

I fought my with husband about my plans to go out this morning without the kids. I can't STAND it when someone tells me to calm down during an argument. I'll be strident if I want to, damnit. I have to go buy a bed, return some clothes, and I'd like to get a pedicure. He wants me to take the two kids that fight the most - Nikolas and Allegra - in order to spare the sitter. So, what, spare her and screw with my nerves? She's getting paid and I'm not. 'Nuff said.

This is probably the area that our dynamic, big family struggles with the most.

Surprised?

My kids seem to feel that I am here to do all the work that our household requires. After all, I'm home all day - what else do I do? I'll tell you what I do. I spend a large majority of my day doing the same stuff over and over - picking up after them, doing dishes, washing and folding laundry, picking up all the shoes strewn all over the house, and putting everything back into it's place.

So that they can come home again and undo it.

Here's what the chore list looks like:

All kids are responsible for bringing their laundry down every other day. I wash it, sometimes they have to change it over to the dryer. We all separate and fold it together - each child is responsible for folding their own laundry. If I'm grumpy (oh, hahahahaha), they are given another pile to fold, usually a smaller kid or some of the towels. They all help to put away the towels and washcloths.

They are supposed to keep their rooms clean. Every week or so, I get fed up with the rooms and go it and dump it all into the middle of the floor. They have to clean it up before they can play. Every night, they are supposed to tidy up their rooms. Doesn't always happen - hence, the weekly clean up thing. My kids seem to have an allergy to using those great laundry sorters that I bought them - a quick glance into the bedrooms just now revealed pj's, yesterday's socks, and uniforms on the floor, as well as hairbrushes and books. That is probably the thing that drives me the most crazy. HOW to get them in the habit of putting stuff WHERE it goes?????? When they come home from school, all the backpacks/shoes/coats/hats/papers/books get dropped everywhere and we are behind the 8 ball before we start.

Nikolas has to vacuum the tv room and the playroom every night. Allegra has to vacuum upstairs every three or four days. Mackenzie has to vacuum the girls bedroom every couple of days. Every night, Mackenzie, Gabe and Emma are supposed to clean the playroom.

Kitchen chores: The dishwasher has to be unloaded every day after school. Nikolas and Allegra alternate days, and Mackenzie and Gabe do the silverware. Anything that is handwashed is put away by me. Allegra is supposed to sweep nightly, and Nikolas is supposed to wipe the table and counters. That chore switches monthly - I say supposed to, because unless I ride them into the sunset, they sneak away. I tell them to do it while I put the little kids to bed, but they don't. It's a sore spot with me. After I finally get people to bed, the LAST thing I want to do is clean some more. That's usually when I wash the stuff that doesn't fit in the dishwasher.

Now, bathrooms are a funny topic. I HATE to clean them. Despise that chore more than just about anything. But with this many people, and three bathrooms - yes, I KNOW how lucky we are - there has to be some tidy bowl sweeping going on. I taught Nikolas and Allegra how to thoroughly clean the bathroom, and if they want me to load their cell phones - cheapo trac phones from 7-11- they are welcome to clean a bathroom. Otherwise, I do it when I get disgusted. Maybe once a week? I've also shown the kids how to use some shampoo on a washcloth and wipe the shower down while they are in. Doesn't always happen, but often enough to work for me. When I wash my face, I use that cloth to wipe down the sink. Mackenzie is supposed to wipe the upstairs sink at night, and Gabe the downstairs.

Every once in a while, Nikolas will get a wild hair and decide to swiffer the foyer. Usually he decides to do this when all of the kids are running around in their socks, but, you know, he's choosing to do a chore without being asked and I have to learn to shut my mouth.

Sometimes, I'll notice that the house is looking dusty. See, I have to dust almost every day, due to allergies and asthma - so I wipe down the spots I see - the back of the television, the picture frames as I walk up the stairs, etc. The rest of the house gets it as I notice it. Deep cleaning; the wiping of stuff like the banister, light swtiches, etc, happens usually when someone gets sick. Hahaha, I'm not joking.

All day long I walk around and pick up stuff that isn't where it belongs, and I toss it on the back steps. The deal is, the kids are to bring that stuff up when they go upstairs. Typically, everyone ignores that stuff until I catch my foot in the big piles and yell my head off. Then they will say, "What's the big deal, mom? Don't get so upset, I'll do it. Geez, Mom." and they shake their heads as they walk away. Never FAILS to boil my blood.

The kids constantly complain that they spend a good part of their day cleaning up, but if I could just get them to understand the concept of "Putting stuff away after you use it, instead of just dropping it everywhere", they'd have to do waaaaaay less cleaning up. I have been known to get really furious and walk around the house, collecting everything that needs to be put away and dumping it on the kitchen table, and yelling my head off until it's all put away. I'm SO grown up that way.

The outside stuff works the same way. They take it out and play with it/use it, leave it laying around, and we yell at them request in extremely sweet voices to please be a dear and put it away, if you don't mind.

So, I really don't know what else you want to know about chores. I frequently tell the kids - 8 people in a house, no Cinderella, we all work together -but it's often easier to just DO IT MYSELF.

Can really mean any number of things. ER, for example. Or OB-GYN. Or Hi-Fi, or MPEG, or RAM.

Or UTI.

Yup, my little girl has one. We went into the office today, gave a teeny tiny little sample, and were given some Keflex. No abdominal pain, no wincing, just a sore bottom, as she says. Numbers a bit high, some blood present in the specimen, said specimen sent over to the hospital lab for a confirmation and determination of exact germ to fight.

Except.

On the way home, she began to whine that her belly hurt. My head began to hurt as well, and so I cheerfully said, "It's nap time for you, missy! But first, let's have some of this delicious, fizzy orange medicine that the doctor gave us!" I carefully mixed the dissolving tablet with the 2 teaspoons of water and had her sip it. She took one sip, turned her head, and vomited. And began to scream that she had to PEEEEEEE!

We skipped down the hall to the bathroom, tra-la-laaa, how happy we are, leaving a trail of pee and puke in our wake. I cleaned both of us up, and persuaded her to stop crying. See, I was of the firm belief that all of the hysterical waterworks had upset her belly and caused her to vomit. She ceased, and went for a two hour nap.

And woke with a 102 degree fever - axillary, but adjusted, thank you! - and vomited twice more. Hmm. All does not seem right here in Masses land. I decided to call the doc back.

And was connected with Nurse Fresh out of Nursing school.

See, here's the thing. Not to toot my own horn, or to be a cocky know it all, because that's just not me, but I've done a fair amount of kids stuff before. And I know how to treat the stomach flu. Sips of clear fluids, a teaspoon at a time, gatorade, pedialyte, popsicles, progressing to crackers after 8 hours, yadda yadda. I've had a kid hospitalized for dehydration, in the great debacle of the Rotavirus six years ago - tomorrow will be the aniversary, as a matter of fact!

i love my pediatric practice. The nurses have, in the past, been completely awesome and they all know me really well. They know I don't call for stupid stuff, I usually know how to proceed, and they don't have any problem turning my questions over to the docs. For reasons that can't be discussed on a blog, where anyone on the internet can see it, just about every nurse has quit. And they've all been replaced with extremely friendly, very kind, not too knowledgeable brand new nurses. I hit the motherload of them this afternoon. She spent ten minutes of my cell phone time, while I was on the way to school, telling me how to adjust the temperature up a degree when used under the armpit, and how to feed a child who is vomiting goldfish and saltines. Um, yeah. I finally got a word in and asked her to please just tell the doc that this was ongoing and what did he recommend.

She called back and said that the vomiting and stomach pain was just a coincidence. The mama doesn't think so, and when my phone rang and I saw it was the ped's office, and realized that it was one of the OLD and GOOD nurses, who had called for something totally irrelevant, I grabbed a hold of her ear for a minute. She agreed with me that maybe it did deserve a closer look, and went to the doc for me herself. I owe her a cup of coffee.

Up shot is, her specimen wasn't THAT dirty, but beginning to get that way, and he still feels that it's a coincidence. He did agree to call in some phengran, since she hasn't kept anything down since 11, and we do need to be able to get the antibiotics in her, so she doesn't end up with a kidney infection. He also agreed that if she wasn't better tomorrow, I need to bring her back.

I told you, I always have to be right. This is one of those times that I wish I wasn't.

In the sporting goods store, looking for some workout clothes for myself and sneakers for Allegra. Hey, tax refund money came, so it was time to shop! Allegra didn't see any shoes she liked - well, she did, but I draw the line at $55 shoes for an eleven year old - and so we went over to the women's section. I had just located the under armor stuff - I wanted to get a pair of black leggings to run with outside - when Emma began to shriek. I whipped my head around, and noticed that she was grabbing her bottom. "Pee! Pee! I've got to peeeeeeeeeeee!"

Ok, fine, whatever. Except for the fact that she had already peed ON herself three times that day, and had wet the bed the night before. And she's been both day and night dry for a year. She's been saying that her bottom hurts, so I'm thinking it's time for a trip to the ped. I was fairly near the restroom, so I comissioned Allegra to run with her, fast like a bunny, to the toilet. She's done it a million times, she knows the drill. I continued to search for the supremely extra large hootchie mama spandex leggings. (Just shut up already. Yes, black spandex.) I looked over to the bathroom and saw Allegra walking out, with no Emma. A quick question told me that Emma had soaked herself and she was sitting on the potty waiting for me. Oh, so NOT ok in my book. I dropped the clothes and hustled everyone over to the bathroom. Thank you GOD that it was 10 a.m. and we were the only people in the store. I propped open the door with the stroller, and took one step forward. I caught my foot in the wheel, as it wasn't heavy enough to hold the door and it was sliding closed, causing me to trip and dump my coffee - warm but not hot - all over Riley. She began to howl.

A quick glance around told me that there were no paper towels in this room, just air dryers. I checked on Emma, who kept saying "My bottom hurts", and then puzzled for a minute. Where do I even begin? I grabbed some toilet paper - the really cheap one ply stuff - and tried to mop up Riley, but I suceeded in merely coating her in tp fuzz. I comissioned Mackenzie to grab some more tp and wipe the floor. I picked Emma up and carried her to the sink. I gave Allegra the van keys and sent her up one floor to the van, to get a pullup. I've used all the spare clothes in the car, since she's had a rash of accidents this week. I pulled Gabe out of the way of an overly friendly woman trying to enter the restroom, and stood Emma on the counter. I began to try to wash her legs with my wet hands and the soap, and tried as best I could to wipe her down. The IDIOT who agreed not the purchase paper towels should be shot. I left her standing there to drip for a minute and stuck my head out of the door. Where was Allegra? As I was closing the door, I heard the elevator bing and I checked again. Yup, there she was. I picked Emma up and held her bottom up to the air dryer. It began to blow cool, but her shrieks of "hot!" clued me in that it didn't STAY cool. I put the pull up on her, told everyone to stay put, and ran out into the store. I could hear her crying all the way down the hall, which went well with Riley's annoyance at her coffee covered dress.

Clearance racks, clearance racks, oh, here they are. Except. The smallest size sold here is a girls small - 7-14. Emma wears a 4. And all the stuff on clearance was either shorts or shirts. So I grabbed a pair of soccer pants - knowing that Mackenzie could wear them later - and marched up to the counter. "Look." I told the wide eyed, barely shaving kid at the register. "My daughter wet herself, and I've got more shopping to do. Can you just take this tag off and I'll come back and pay in a minute?" He nodded his head, probably hoping that he'd NEVER become like me. I raced back to the bathroom, and dressed Emma in blue pants with soccer balls, coordinated perfectly with her red and white striped turtleneck and her pink shoes and red socks.

And I marched out of the restroom, with my uncoordinated kid, her wet clothes, and her coffee covered sister.

First of all, I've lost a grand total of 5 pounds. Two of those pounds in the last week. That's not a lot, but I've worked damned hard for those five pounds.

Second, I've been pinky promised a check from the Children's Hospital. It seems that the transcriptionist decided, based upon her interpretation of the doctor's dictation, to change the code on Riley's reports. Thus, the claims that were supposed to be covered have been, once again - wait for it - for the third time denied. With a CAPITAL D. But, the hospital has decided to attempt to get the code changed, but if not able to do this, they will - I've been told - write off her charges for the three months in question and refund me the amounts I paid. When I asked how long this would take - a year, 6 months - I was told a week, since they understand my frustration in dealing with this. Um, ok. I really, really hope that I'm not falling for a line of bull, but how sweet would that be?

And, in the biggest news of all, Riley has had a really great two weeks, both at home and in therapy. Today went so well that her therapist said if next week goes as well, we can drop her down to every other session. Whoot! What great news! It seems as if a switch has gone off in her brain, and she's made enormous jumps. She will give eye contact, she will smile, she hasn't bitten herself in a month, and does much less facial posturing than she used to do. She has started to talk! Single words, and they sound like she's speaking with a mouth of rocks underwater, but it's verbal and I'll take it. She is still extremely tentative in social situations, but actually went into the gym this week without freaking out. And one of the other kids had a big freak out, and she held it together the ENTIRE TIME.

I am supposed to have my tax return direct deposited tomorrow.

Please, someone pinch me, cuz too much good news in one day and I might pee myself.

Can you tell that lately I haven't been getting much? (Sleep, that is.)

So, how do bedtimes work in a large family with children of different ages? When I'm home with the kids alone, it's like the military here. When The Hubster is home, all bets are off. He plays and st-ret-ches bedtime waaaaaayyy out.

None of my kids have been good sleepers - except Emma. All of them have given up their nap by 2 1/2, and NOT one of them slept through the night before age 3. I've learned to do without much sleep, and that's hard, coming from a woman who could sleep 12 hours without pause.

We typically have dinner between 5 and 6. Depending upon how much they hate the food offered, dinner is over between 6 and 6:30. Immediately after, I have the kids clear their places and then I do night time meds. After meds, I send Emma and Gabe to brush their teeth while I load the dishwasher. Typically, I end up yelling three or four times for them to get moving, and then I follow up. I brush Emma's teeth for her, do a quick brush over of Gabe's, and yell for Mackenzie to go upstairs, shower and brush her teeth. Then I brush Riley's and get her and Emma into pj's. I finally wised up a few months ago and started storing the two little girls pj's downstairs. It makes it a good deal easier to have them downstairs, rather than send someone up for them, or have to take a wet diaper back down.

Heading upstairs, I pull Nikolas off the ceiling and send him back downstairs to finish his homework and do his chores - wipe the counters and the table - preferably not onto the floor. Allegra is also sent down to do her chores - sweep the kitchen and wipe down the chairs. I send Gabe to his room to dress, and then send him BACK to his room to dress. I scream my head off call ever so sweetly to the older kids to stop the fighting. I remind Mackenzie to lotion herself - she has the driest skin I've ever seen, and scratches non stop if we forget the lotion.

I've been blessed with one child that loves to sleep - Emma. Ever since she gave up naps, at about age two, she goes down very early. I tuck her into bed between 6:30 and 7. Same thing every night - we do prayers, read a book, give her a stack of books to "read", turn on her tape, give her a pacifier - I kNOW, bad habit - and go out. It typically takes me 5 minutes, and she's down for about 12-13 hours. I also turn on the noise machine to cover the other kids.

Last night, though, she was up at 9. At 10. At 12. At 2. AND at 4:43 FOR THE DAY.

Gabe is next. Same routine. Pj's, prayers, book, tape and I'm out the door. I don't mess around. I'm usually interrupted several times while I'm in his room, though, settling fights and re directing Riley, who may or may not decide to stay with me. I sometimes call for a big kid to come and get her. Off to Mackenzie - same routine, with a slight twist. She's allowed to stay up an hour, albeit in her bed, and read. If she gets up, it spells disaster for her, and she's learned that I mean what I say. Gabe's usually asleep within ten minutes of being tucked in.

By this time, it's close to 8. I go back down with Riley and sit down to rock her. Same thing every night - I'm so routine it's boring. I send Allegra up to shower, with the promise that if she gets it done, she can watch Little House on the Prairie with me. I rock Riley to sleep, and then put her down. When LHOP goes off, Allegra goes up, Mackenzie is told to turn off her light, and Nik is sent up to shower. I usually go up at the same time -9 - and get ready for bed myself. I tuck Nikolas in and he can read for an hour. Once everyone is in bed, I typically try to stay awake for an hour or so, reading blogs, watching tv, and avoiding the laundry. I really need that time, and don't like it when the kids are up later. I need to recharge.

Sleep is really important to me. If I don't get enough - I NEVER get enough on Sunday nights, due to Grey's Anatomy - I am grumpy and I have a hard time concentrating the next day. I also feel like kids, especially MY kids, need more sleep than they get. On nights when everything goes the way it needs, the little kids get 10 or 12 hours of sleep. The big kids get between 8 and 10. That's what I shoot for. That's why I run a tight ship with regards to bed - because I feel like it messes with my sanity if I don't.

During the night, I can count on Riley waking at least twice, Gabe making his way into my room at some point, and Emma a bit less frequently. Mackenzie still on occasion. I'm so slack with the little kids - they come right into my bed. The bigger ones are sent back, cuz I'm heartless that way. The only ones who really sleep through are Nikolas, Allegra, and The Hubster. When I'm woken, I have a hard time going back to sleep, and I can't stand any light in my room.

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About Me

Carmen Staicer is a whirlwind of energy and execution, who never sleeps and drinks way too much coffee. She works from home as Social Media Programs Manager for SheKnows, and is the mom to six kids, most of whom play instruments, sing or dance and all of whom are much smarter than she will ever be. In other words, her house is never ever quiet or still. A concentration of asthma, food allergies, spectrum disorders and learning disabilities means that she spends an awful lot of time second guessing herself and Dr. Googling, as well as learning to cook everything the family might like to eat. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, boxing (she has her Black Belt in Muay Thai), sleeping, exploring coffee shops, photography, ballet class and cooking. She excels in being a smart mouth and has her major in sarcasm, with a dual minor in BS studies and avoiding laundry.